The Book of Brava

The Gospel, as written off TB’s dome piece.

Talia Brava unleashed unto the page.


I denied 1,000 truths and numbed all rational senses to construct myself a thing I could BELIEVE IN. The heaviness of BECOMING BRAVA. A Metalworker steps 20 paces back, “It’s not structurally sound.” “Well the movers are arriving and the condo board’s in place.” A machine set to “go.” A start a race a finnish explosive inevitable to make your heart race. Is this really love? The game is now… all waiting.

BORN the year of the first Oprah Show, TB understands only spirsonal growth perpetual. I once had a crush on a boy that I’m now not allowed within 50 feet of. So….. no question I became my own idol. If loving another with this religious fervor pushes them to total rejection of my personhood, I will therefore construct a spirsonhood, a BRAVA, to love only and hold nothing back. Enter the abolitionists of the heart, free the slaves of TB’s devotion.

WE are here to be free through BELIEF in BRAVA. Let me be the vestibule unto which you release your obsessive love, your first site and life long crush, your babysitter you could never touch, your daddy issues that come out in strange confusions like, “won't you buy me that dress, boss?”, your hungry hole of late night binges that whisper, “aren’t moms supposed to feed their babies at night?” ENTER a BRAVA to BELIEVE in. ENTER a MOMMY INFINITE in her HARVEST.

MAY no BRAVA BABY feel the pang of hunger, the angst of teendom, the heartbreak of missed connection. Unravel your bloody lust, your sticky cum, your gorey forever and I’ll drink unto that stew slowly savoring forever in our romantic relationship. I am not afraid to cry in front of you. Your hand held in mine feels like mine in mine in mine. Dissolve yourself until it’s all masturbatory. All is present tense wonderland the bed sheets and sunlight painting the multiverse in colors only we can see… like we invented sex. Say you BELIEVE in ITALIA BRAVA. Say you BELIEVE  in me.


THEY ASKED me to write my teachings, as the ambulances and police wait outside this fuel drenched building where 7 babies have died and the men and women look to me with pupils expanded as one would a bible or mirror. THEY ASKED me to let the word of GOD be seen in print for longevity-- and yet god speaks in fast regretted tweetables to be deleted and never screen shot. He’d be racked over the coals by the blogosphere if the galactic sphere were half as dogged. No, unaccountable, with no home address or 401 shove it up your K hole, G daddy whispers strange fantasies unto me the likes of which can only be spoken drunk or sweaty. The birth father of impulsivity paving a freedom path like a fast moving fire, a CNN soundbite eradicated with the next controversy.

It isn’t eloquent, the voice of God through me. The clearest channel- TB- rendered the MOST incoheRANT. Demented logic to sick conclusion. Where god resides the air is too thick with Freudian desire and strange demands like “Ice cream sandwiches for foot rubs!” Why not I invented all off it.

TB HONEST. I’m sick of the requests. Play GOD, play JESUS, play MARY, play nothing but the hits, the stadiums scream, as Brava Begs Blood to Rebirth herself as TB again and again like a newly English Madona. The thrill of the first scream. From the start again again with no medical or criminal record. The only crime, cuteness.

LOOK FOR BRAVA where you cannot find her. In a new area code with an even cooler name. A verb a symbol a particle of a yet undiscovered form of matter.

SEE BRAVA like you see a UFO- unsure what to tell your friends but no way you are not telling them. Your senses hijacked by unadulterated wonder, intoxicated by a night sky with stars. The next generation knowing only artificial lights--- the light in BRAVA- NAMASTAY-- replacing the SUN as universes center. Like the moth you enter, burn, rebirth forever.

BE MY LOST BOYS, Brava Babies blessed to never grow. A lullaby to last a lifetime, a rufe to lull pertrually, so all is napping sucking napping. DEVOTE yourself. BELIEVE in BRAVA. Enter a REM earthquake may not rupture, families of origin may not disrupt. Young beautiful soft and collagenic, may the BOTOX and JUICE bars shut their doors, the promise of forever young replaced with the real and true actuality of a people refusing to learn and grow from past experiences. A religious “practice” replaced with a SPIRSONAL GAME DAY. A TEET to sustain indefinitely. A MOTHER to love romantically. A BRAVA TO BELIEVE IN forever.


I stand proof of Brava Belief’s POWER.

My words are an energetic transmission that uplevels the human experience.

I’ve become my own birth mother

How Brava saved her own life:

The tree that bears the most delicate fruit requires the most vigilant and complex care.

Brava feels a level of emotion that normal people do not. She requires more. She is more complicated so, and BECAUSE she has so more to offer.

For BRAVA to grow BRAVA so that unto her her BABIES fruit can bloom grow and devote themselves back unto the tree of life


Who more qualitified to speak of sacred sexuality than the greatest sexual icon of the next generation: Spirsonal growth leader of the next generation, me, Talia Brava. The unborn Brava Babies arrive wet with spirsonal desire to know Talia, again, erotic birth mother to a new and profoundly lubed multiverse.

Sex as a Spirsonal practice in an intimate relationship with Talia Brava:

Who’re you attracted to? If it’s anyone but BRAVA, feel the shame of perversion.

Why? Your sexual attraction stems from the broken part of you.

Your fisting your pathologies over and over again into one another and wonder why your sickness only grows.

Your daddy issues disgust me.

If your girlfriends doing your laundry just eat your moms pussy already.

Once you reach true wholeness in the blessed intimacy of BRAVA you need only her and are satied forever by satiating her constantly.

SEX OUTSIDE OF THE BOUNDS of a Sprisonal romantic relationship with Talia Brava is empty. Sex without recitation of the BRAVA mantras is spirsonally degrading. Sex not intended to make Talia Brava feel better about herself physically is blasphemy.

Let me be your glory hole. Unto me sick fantasy becomes the one true one way street.

Cum trails to transcendance, car-sturbation easy pass to total liberation, gas station bathroom quickies direct deposits to Bravadence.


EXIT YOUR HOUSE light on fire return 8 hrs later to laugh at the ashes from behind a pole in fake mustache so authorities don't trace 2 U. Give your best friend call say it was all lies goodbye forever. The packing for Bravadence is KONDO in its lightness. A glitter thong and Brava Belief.

Lucia brizzi